In Matters of the Heart
by SkyeRose
Summary: When Catherine Langford receives an invitation to Sam's wedding, it's not the groom she was expecting. She decides that Sam needs a little reminding of something she said years ago. Light and shippy! SamJack, twoshot. Set during 'Threads.'
1. Chapter 1

**In Matters of the Heart**

**Chapter One: A Reminder**

**A/N: Oh, inspiration, how you hit without warning! This two-parter is set during the incomparable episode "Threads." This chapter is the backstory and buildup, while the next chapter will be the resolution. I don't want to give anything away…but prepare for intense shippiness.**

**Brief references to the episodes "Fair Game" and "A Hundred Days" aka one of the worst episodes ever. And to another one, but I don't want to give it away, just yet. Though I'm sure some of you know which one.**

**Enjoy!**

Catherine Langford sat in her darkening study, hands splayed out on her desk, staring down at the piece of paper in front of her. A small square sheet of cardstock bearing simple silver filigree stared back at her, the names glaring brightly in the yellow light from her lamp. _You are cordially invited to witness the union of Samantha Carter and Peter Shanahan on the Seventh of June, Two Thousand and Five. Black tie attire is requested. _The invitation went on to say that the menu would consist of chicken, beef, or fish and to please choose only one and if there was to be a plus one, mark it in the appropriate check box.

Catherine sighed and glanced up at her husband, who was reading in their overstuffed armchair. "Sam's getting married."

Ernest looked up, not in the least bit startled. "O'Neill finally got his head together, huh?" He went back to reading his book like that was the end of the conversation, but Catherine didn't have the energy to be annoyed.

"Jack isn't the groom." Her voice was tired and her mouth set in a grim, resigned line.

Ernest didn't look up immediately, but his posture stiffened slightly and Catherine could tell he wasn't reading anymore. "Then how is she getting married?" His spoke very slowly, looking up at her like she was the one being dense.

She rolled her eyes, but had to fight a small smile. After spending the majority of his life alone, with only twenty or so years of human interaction prior to his exile, he could be very odd about interpersonal relationships. He whole-heartedly believed that everyone had a soulmate—a sentiment that glared against his scientific background and was only reinforced by the fact that he had been reunited with her…even after fifty long years.

"Somebody else asked her. She said yes." Catherine sighed and stood, moving to sit on the arm of Ernest's chair. "Over the years I was just…I was just so sure that Sam and Jack would eventually end up together." She half smiled, half grimaced recalling a time several years ago when Sam had called her, sounding as though she had a bad headcold.

"_Sam! It's so good to hear from you! How have you been?" Catherine wiped her hands on her work pants, laying her soldering iron down, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder._

"_Been better." She answered, her voice scratchy and congested sounding._

"_What's wrong?" Catherine smiled sympathetically. "Are you sick? I can send chicken soup."_

_Sam gave a small laugh. "No, I'm not sick." The young woman hesitated, then pushed forward, speaking quickly like her words were hurting her. "Colonel O'Neill is stranded off world, Catherine."_

_Catherine felt her heart drop and she brought her hand to her chest. "Is he okay?" She glanced over at Ernest who was napping on their couch and thought about how long he had been stranded and how much she had missed him. Before Sam could answer, Catherine asked a question that she knew was much more pressing. "Are _you_ okay?"_

_She heard Sam's breath catch over the phone and could picture her struggling to keep a composed face. "I'm…worried." She finally admitted, her voice several decibels lower. She seemed to deflate and a muffled thump led Catherine to believe that the young Major had laid her head on her work surface."I'm worried and—and I don't really know what else." She took a breath. "I just can't stop thinking about Ernest and how he was stranded for so many years and…" She trailed and Catherine smiled sadly._

"_And how I felt about being on the other side?" Catherine took her silence as a yes and continued on. "I thought Ernest was dead, so I had at least some closure. But…it hurt, Sam. I felt like I had to find a way to bring him back even if it was impossible."_

"_Impossible certainly seems to fit the bill." Sam laughed bitterly._

"_What's the situation?"_

"_The gate got hit by an energy blast before Colonel O'Neill could make it through." Her voice was tight and far away and Catherine could practically feel her pain and guilt over the line. "We've tried dialing, but it's gone or buried." Her throat tightened. "But we're proceeding under the assumption it's buried. There's an ally ship heading there, but it'll take more than half a year."_

"_And you don't want to wait that long." Catherine again looked over at Ernest and felt her chest constrict. He looked so peaceful, she could almost pretend he never went missing. A loud snore erupted from him and she rolled her eyes briefly. Then again, there were certain things she didn't miss. _

"_He shouldn't have to wait that long." Now she sounded wistful. _

"_So what're you going to do?"_

"_I'm attempting to build a particle generator. It'll blast through anything that's obstructing the gate, which, at this point we think is a Naquadah barrier." The younger woman sighed and Catherine could practically see the tears forming in her eyes. Her voice was quiet. "I have to bring him home, Catherine."_

_Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, her heart going out to Sam. She knew how hard those words must be for her…knew how much she was saying by what she wasn't._

Catherine shook herself from her memory and looked at Ernest. He was gazing up at her with an open expression and she was surprised to see he looked almost hurt. "What's wrong?"

"How do you think Jack is taking this?" Ernest pressed his lips together as he stared up at his wife.

"He's Jack, he survives." But Catherine could imagine his hurt too. He had never been as open as Sam had been about his feelings over the years. But she had seen his pride and care for her in his eyes and voice when he'd told her that Sam was being promoted to Major.

"Can't catch a break." Ernest shook his head sadly. "Who's the shrub?"

"I'm sorry?" Catherine asked, taken aback at the turn in the conversation. "The shrub?"

"The guy she's marrying."

"Peter Shanahan."

"Do you know him?"

Catherine frowned, again taken aback. "No. I didn't think about it before, but I haven't heard anyone mention him." She rose, staring absently at the bookshelf in front of her as though it held the answer to this puzzle. "No one. Not Daniel, or Teal'c. I don't really expect Jack to have, but I just spoke to Sam last week! Not a word!"

"Do you think she was engaged by then?"

Catherine looked down at Ernest, an eyebrow raised. "No, I think she sent the invitations _before_ she knew she was getting married." Her tone was sarcastic, but without malice and Ernest merely rolled his eyes at her.

"I was just checking. Maybe she's been replaced by an alien. Or, oh!" He snapped his book closed and his eyes shone excitedly. "I was just reading a fascinating, supposedly theoretical report on how repeated exposure to-,"

"No, no." Catherine shook her head, cutting him off, her mind a million miles away."I think it's something much simpler." She glanced at her husband. "Something much more human."

Ernest made a face, but conceded. "Think something happened between them?"

"No." Catherine walked back to her desk and began searching for a picture she'd taken long ago. "I don't think anything did. And I think that's the problem."

Ernest came up behind her, a mischievous grin on his face. "What are you up to?"

"Sam said something to me long ago." She continued to root through her desk as Ernest looked over her shoulder.

"So?"

"It's something I think she needs to be reminded of. Ah!" She stood up, triumphant. The picture was in perfect condition, though the frame was a little tarnished. Slipping the picture out, she quickly scrawled something on the back of it and simply signed it _CL_.

Ernest nodded his head, finally figuring out what his wife was doing. "You don't think this is a little unfair to Shenanigan?"

"Shanahan." She corrected absently. "And I do. I feel a little bad, but I think it's more unfair to him—to all of them—not to do this."

**TBC**

**A/N: Part two up soon! I promise our favorite team will be the stars of the next one!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Message Received**

**A/N: I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened, but this chapter never got uploaded! Most certainly my fault, but here it is! Finally!**

**Correction: This was originally uploaded with Jack as a Colonel and not as a General. Brain fart on my part, sorry guys! Thank you to ShoeQueen for catching that!**

**Enjoy!**

Sam sat in her lab, laptop open and several reports spread out on her desk. She sighed and looked over at all the papers, each more tedious than the last—but she couldn't bring herself to really mind. She'd noticed herself doing this over the last few months; she would get distracted too easily, take too many snack breaks, type slower than she usually did…and then she'd end up with a mountain of paperwork and no escape.

But she didn't want one. She hadn't really let herself psychoanalyze her behavior, but she knew she was procrastinating on purpose. She barely left the mountain anymore. She told her team that she just had too many projects and too little time. But Sam saw the looks on their faces—they thought she was working too hard, taking on too many things.

But that wasn't it. She was avoiding Pete.

Sam squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. The thought of him made her feel suddenly confined; like she was trapped in a quickly sinking ship. "Sam, we have to pick out colors. Sam we have to pick a cake," She muttered, not realizing she was speaking out loud. She snatched a pile of papers off her desk and shoved it into a manila envelope. "Sam, you have to get a dress, Sam you have to get your flowers, Sam you have to be smothered by me for the rest of your life!"

She slammed another stack of papers into an envelope and made a face. She knew she was behaving unfairly. Pete wasn't actually doing anything wrong…she was. Sam didn't want to pick out a dress or flowers. She didn't want to go to cake tastings. She didn't want to do this.

A soft throat clear from her door startled her and she looked up, for a horrifying second thinking it was the general. But it was Daniel who was leaning against her door frame, arms crossed over his chest, a small envelope dangling from his fingers. "Bad time?"

Sam gave him a tight smile. "Not at all."

Daniel gave her a look and slowly made his way into the room. "Because I can come back. If you want to, you know…finish your argument." He glanced around the room as though to highlight the fact that there was no one else there.

Sam closed her eyes briefly, feeling her cheeks color. "Look, it's not what you think-,"

"I don't think anything." Daniel held up his hand and fixed her with his blue gaze. His expression was unreadable, but Sam thought she saw a glimmer of sadness. _'That doesn't make any sense.'_ Sam watched her friend watch her, feeling increasingly like she was the suspect in a crime.

Sam glanced at the envelope in his hand and, after two failed attempts, managed to smile. "Whatcha got there?"

Daniel frowned almost imperceptibly, then slid the white paper towards her, his gaze never leaving her face. Sam reached out to take it, but Daniel slid it slightly away, waiting until she looked up at him. "Sam."

"Daniel?" She had the sudden urge to cry. A part of her had been waiting—just waiting—for someone to question her. For someone to ask her why instead of just playing along like she was just supposed to be happy with Pete.

Daniel paused for a long moment, his gaze searching. "I've known you for a long time, Sam. I don't always know what's going on inside your head, but I have a pretty good idea sometimes." He leaned forward and caught Sam's eyes before she could look away. "Why are you here, in your lab, doing paperwork that isn't yours?"

Daniel watched her expression tighten and for a second he thought she was going to tell him to go to hell. Instead she nodded her head minutely and looked down at her desk. "I know. I know." She looked up at Daniel and took the envelope he offered her with shaking hands.

"I'll see you later?" When Sam nodded he turned and quietly made his way from her lab.

Sam looked down at the envelope and frowned. There was nothing written on it, just a blank white slate. She hooked her finger underneath the flap and pulled, the adhesive giving way easily. Taking a deep breath she looked down at the object in her hands and felt her heart drop into her stomach.

It was an old picture, taken a few days after SG-1 had found Ernest. The whole team was standing outside Jack's house where they'd had a 'Welcome Home, Ernest' barbeque. But the picture didn't show that. In fact, she didn't even remember this photo being taken.

The four of them stood together, but only Daniel and Teal'c were smiling at the camera. Sam stood a little off to the side, bent over slightly as she laughed at something the general had whispered to her. Sam unconsciously touched her side, remembering that she had laughed so hard her stomach had been sore for an hour.

But that wasn't what made her heart start to pound. It was the look on the general's face as he smiled down at her that made her breath catch. She had missed his expression in the moment, but she could see it clear as day now. He looked so happy, so proud to have made her laugh. It was an expression she'd only seen glimmers of in the past.

But who had sent it?

Sam turned the picture over, tears threatening to fill her eyes as she read the simple script. _I don't think the heart ever grows old. CL._

Catherine.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to go away. Despite her emotional overload, her brain had gone into overdrive. She had spoken those very words seven years ago when trying to comfort Catherine, who believed Ernest no longer loved her after fifty years of not being able to be together. The heart never grows old…

Sam looked down at the picture again. Was Catherine telling her that she wasn't waiting long enough? A quick count told her that Catherine should have received the invitation to her wedding a couple of days ago. Maybe even yesterday. Was she saying that she hadn't been with Pete long enough to marry him?

No. Sam shook her head. Catherine wasn't old fashioned and this picture would be too out of context if that were the case. _'Stop pretending not to understand.'_ A small voice nudged at her. _'You know what this is.'_

Sam felt her heart start to pound again and she looked up, the open door and hallway beyond it suddenly seemed to gape at her. _'She's telling me that it doesn't matter if it's eight years or fifty. The heart doesn't get tired. The heart doesn't forget.'_

Sam stood up so quickly, her stool tipped precariously before righting itself, wobbling back and forth. Her head was spinning and she had to hold on to her desk to keep from sinking to the floor. Was it even possible that it wasn't too late? After everything that had happened-the distance, the coldness, the hurt…

Was there a chance they could fix everything?

"Carter?" His voice so startled her that she nearly fell backwards, the death grip she had on her desk the only thing that kept her upright. He was wearing his civilian clothes and some small part of her mind reminded her that today was his day off. And hers, technically. "You okay?"

"Yes, sir." She tried and failed to sound nonchalant.

"What's going on?" He stepped fully into her lab, concern flitting through his expression. But Sam remembered when he would have looked at her openly, letting her see what was going on in his head. The thought of what they'd lost almost pushed her over the edge.

Instead she laid the picture flat on her desk and pushed it towards her commanding officer. She watched as his eyes traveled slowly down her arm and focused on what her fingers were touching. His expression remained neutral as he reached for the photo, picking it up gingerly with his long fingers.

After a long moment Sam looked up at him, her eyes clear and bright. "Sir."

"Why didn't you tell me that shirt makes me look fat?"

Sam was so taken aback by his words that for a second she forgot that the events of the last year had happened. But she didn't forget how much she missed his jokes and his teasing and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners whenever he made her laugh. After a moment, her laughter subsided and she was able to look at him again without cracking up.

"There's the Carter I've been missing. Feel like I haven't seen you smile in, oh, forever?" But his grin faltered as he looked down at her, evidently remembering that they weren't supposed to be like this anymore.

Sam watched his smile fall and felt like her heart was shattering into a thousand pieces. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They were never supposed to be strangers.

"Sir?" She saw his hand twitch, but he gave no other indication he'd heard her as he stared back down at the photo. "Jack."

His eyes snapped to hers and she felt like she was in a car going way too fast and heading straight for a cliff. But there was no turning back. "Sam."

"Do you still?" She glanced down at the picture then back up at him, scared that her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

Jack looked at her for a long moment, letting his eyes rove over her face. Sam met his gaze and held it, knowing that this was it. This was the moment that would change her life no matter what the outcome; but instead of fearing it, she welcomed it. Eight years was a long time to not know.

After what felt like an eternity, Jack smiled ever so slightly and Sam felt her heart skip a beat. "Always."

**END**

**A/N: Just fluff'n'stuff. Hope you liked!**

**P.S. You guys ready for Ship Day?**


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